The Writer

Now ladies and gentlemen, to flesh out a picture with words; because a picture indeed she is.

There is a friend; a lovely girl who once told me that she was an experimentalist; a greedy creature whose penchant was exploration. “Of what?”, I hear you ask eagerly, because I am most definitely aware of your like for all things lewd and lustful, dear reader. The answer is complex. “O Rose, thou art sick!”, says Blake, “The invisible worm that flies in the night, in the howling storm, has found out thy bed of crimson joy: and his dark secret love does thy life destroy”. So my friend is, in a very poetic manner, that rose. A delicate flower whose crimson joy embraces those secret loves borne on the night’s howling storm; loves that consume, only to leave her exhausted and ravaged both outside and in. Yes, I know her and how she longs for that invisible worm to penetrate, indeed, possess her in a flurry of darkness and pain. I therefore ask myself “Who am I to deny her?”

Of fortuitous grace I also know a lovely chap with whom I have danced before. Musical joys of the classic masters and strains of devilish refrains to heat the blood have seen our bodies waltz away soulful evenings or press our forms against each other as passionate one. He is also known to love girls in the darkest of manner; to dance with their desires skillfully, as skillfully as would he dance with me on the ballroom floor – or a boudoir so I hear. Which leads me to wonder should I wish a tryst; a delicate union of sweetness befitting of a lady’s deflowing; one decorous of a loving invasion – her crimson joy.

Oh, dear reader, how my soul rises to thoughts of tears staining her cheeks. I see her in my minds eye imploring that we take her. Unbridled lust dripping from her very pores as we explore every orifice; a symphony in which he orchestrates her nectarous destruction; a veritable concert in which we conduct her slow and sensuous demise.

Yes, that is what I wish for this most beautiful rose…

So it is at this point that I must inform you, my audience, that although this rose may appear of delicate form, it is taken on good advice that her constitution is robust and clear. A pretty and feminine thing, there is naught about her that suggests too prim and proper an outlook, which given the current circumstances mixed with my libertine intent will stand her in good stead. My gaze has held her many a time; moments of curious lustfulness mine to enjoy as I speculate on apparent supple flesh and inviting bosom, her curvaceous derriere and salacious hips adding to that cause of such lascivious desires within me…

So I think I must here pause a moment to sip on cool water lest I be overcome with such primitive eagerness and lead you astray with those proscribed proclivities as are mine for this beautiful blossom. But I digress.

Allow me to then wander back to my ballroom pursuits, albeit a waltz is not always as satisfying as a dance of another genre. My ‘chap’, as I shall call him, is quite partial to beauty and nothing pleases him more than to compose a piece for his own pleasures. I, as his Muse, am equally partial to his oft-accorded invitation to set the scene and today I am yearning a rose to feel my thorns.

But before we go on I shall tell you more of my ‘partner in crime’, as is the term he has so affectionately taken to calling me, and one I shall use in kind. My lovely chap enjoys exercising his unfettered love for wicked implements; the nature of which is both warming and stinging dependent upon the intended effect in the moment. To my delight he whispers sweet poetry in my ear as we move across the floor, tales of wicked forays into his lovelies’ minds and hearts playing on his lips as we dance. I am sure the brushing of tender lips against my cheek is quite deliberate, dear reader, and the lightest of warm breath straying to my neck he knows I find quite inciting. I am well aware that the bow he draws so very skillfully across the strings of my mind ensures I am held not only in his strong masculine arms as we move, but in the lyrical verse that plays accompaniment to the music surrounding us. Have no doubt that he lures and teases me by narrating past passionate demands; moments when tongues and limbs entwine, breathless accounts where bodies are impaled on spears of flesh, and voluptuous bodies are bitten, yes, ravished for his pleasure, yielding, moaning, crying out. Such divinities and obscenities; he whispers them all until my own arousal smears my thighs in a heady tune of carnal plenitudes and crude intent. Lewd recitals, all of them, as we dance.

Now do not get me wrong, dear reader, for I am most desirous of your attention but it is at this moment I must warn you that in returning to the matter in hand I remind you that our innocent bloom is to be corrupted this night, in a tempest of our making. If you be faint of heart or misunderstanding of our intent I entreat you now turn to another page and save any angst, for although our rose is a precious one she will be consumed, and consumed in a most thorough and torrid manner.

So it is here, dear reader, I so zealously relate the impassioned tale of our sick rose whose crimson joy we so tenderly violated that stormy night of now two glorious sunrises ago. I can feel your excitement, the catch in your breath as you savour the anticipation of what you know will be a vision lurid in detail and filled with evidence of our lustful delights; delights extracted so lovingly from this rose’s delicate flesh…

The Rose

Seated
Within a
Crowded
Tube with
Thoughts
Provoked
Of me
Abused
Faces
Melt as I
Drift in
I see
You
In control
Of the air
I breathe

I can feel
Your hand
Clasped firm
Around
My delicate neck
My hands
They’re bound

I struggle
Against
Your strength
Your weight
The clamps
Are clipped
Flesh screams
Burns
Then aches

Your lips
Touch
Lightly
My stomach
Rises high
To fall
Your palm
Moves gently forward
As my cheek
Leans in to
Your pull
I sigh
Relax
Float in
Your caress
Snapped
Back
To your slap
My cunt
Cries
Her arrest

And again
You dictate
My inability
To move
You take
My throat

And
My clit
And
Pinch
Your thumbs
Into both

Pain
Pulses
Shooting
Up
Through my spine
To the back of
My head
Buried
Deep
In my whines

I choke
I can feel
My girl
Drip
Down to my
Arse
I hear
Your soft
Whispers
Calling
Slut
Between laughs

I’m drowning
Oxygen
Rushes
Confused in to
My blood
Released
I can plead
With you
Please
Fill me up

Puddled
She’s begging
Swelling
Up to your
Fingers
That still
Sit
Bastard squeezing
My nib
Into tremors

A heaviness
Sets
As you
Crouch
Over my
Stomach
My breath
Lost
Through my
Belly
This time
You
Let go
Lift
My bum up

That second of rest
Spirals
An all over
Numbness

Deflates
Redirects
To a
Fast
Rumbling
Touch
I flinch
Toes stretch
Curl
Calves tense
Head rolls
Mouth opens
No sound
Fingers claw
Nothing
Found

Ankles together
Held
Knees apart
My clit reaches
To beat you
And fails
From the start

I squeak
I flow
Relentless
Insistent
I contract
I explode
I search
For a
Moment
Of peace

Slut
No

Jitter
I squeal
Laid wide
I wriggle
You push
Harder
My eyes
Water
Their trust

I want more
And to
Cease
My scream
Escapes
In sharp pieces
With
The next
Sudden
Rush
I dig
My arse
Down
Into the sheets

To protect
To protest
You persist
Squirting
My cream
Races
My face
Contorts
With my pleads

Stop
My cunt
Judders
She’s fucked
My thighs
Try
So hard
To lock
The ripples
That rumble
As I’m raised
Up to you
My pussy
Defying
What I want
You to do

Feet released
My knees
Snap
Tight
Holding
All of me in
And close
Round your vibe
Searing
Shudders
Pierce through
My skin

Pressure
Gives way
Lungs
Fill
Full
Fast
Frustrated
The loudest
Of “Fuck!”
Races
Out of me
Uncontrollably
Over
And over
Till muffled
Instinctively
I flip
Sideways
Back again
Use feet
Arse
To shuffle
Away
Stop
Fuck off
Fuck
I gush
Again
Biting down
My legs
Yanked
Apart
To at last
Fill me
I groan

So in need
Soaked
I bleed
My pleasure
She grips
At your
Fingers
As she
Moves
Impatiently
Drips

But you
You’re slow
Pressing
Just
A little
Inside

I beg you

Time flickers
Each millimetre
You slide
Deeper
Please
Deeper
One
Two
Three
Four
Fist

All energy
Leaves
When you
Enter

My moment

Her kiss